


a raft on a dark river

by thefudge



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dark fluff, Domestic Fluff, Emperor Kylo Ren, F/M, Mindfuck, Sith Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader Ren, but with a twist, ost: anyone who knows what love is by irma thomas, yes this has black mirror vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: “Come here,” he says softly, sensing her distress.He doesn’t need the Force. He’s never really needed it with her. As much blood as there is on his hands, he’ll always be like the first snow fall to her.





	a raft on a dark river

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a small slice of dark fluff with sith lord!kylo ren and the tiny ball of energy he unabashedly adores, but it somehow turned into that PLUS creepy, bittersweet mindfuck. oh well! as any respectable goth would type on the platform known as MySpace in the year of our lord 2007, "welcome to my twisted mind!" 
> 
>  
> 
> (but really, this is kind of ehhh (?), like it's not my best work by far, but what can i say, i missed these two!)

***

 

Rose wakes up to the sound of his meditation.

Yes, he’s somehow _loud_ even when he’s immovable and completely immersed in the Force. It’s rather obnoxious.

She stretches lazily, gazing up at the ceiling, the strips of calming black light, milky veins inundating the room, making her feel safe, as if newly hatched from an egg.

She kicks back the blankets and is shocked by the chill in the room.

She was wearing her shirt and slacks when she went to bed, but sometime during the night she ended up naked.

Rose pinches the bridge of her nose.

_This again._

She drops down on the floor like a wildcat and marches towards her semi-conscious partner.

Kylo is sitting in the half-oval of the raised platform, poised right above the city landscape. It’s a breathtaking view, all in all, but she has marveled at it many times before.

She climbs up the pedestal and prods her fingers into the patch of skin peeking through his silk robes.

“Hey idiot, you undressed me again.”

Kylo remains impassive, eyes firmly closed.

She pokes him again.

There’s a twitch under his left eye.

Rose parts his hair and speaks right against his ear. “I know you can hear me! What if I catch a cold, smartass?”  

His giant’s hands come up too fast for her to duck. They wrap around her throat, gently, cloyingly, like twin snakes.

He pulls her towards him.

His eyes open, like trap doors. The pupils glow a lustrous gold-red.

“Do you know how dangerous it is to disturb a Sith from his trance?”

Rose looks into those orbs without flinching.

She tries to recall a time when she did.

Honestly, she’d be more worried if his eyes were colorless.

She can see so many things in the shifting reds.

She wraps her own hands around his. She likes the contrast, an ant trying to subdue an elephant.   

“I think my getting a runny nose thanks to your stupid Sith tricks is higher on the list.”

There’s a low chuckle in his throat, a combination of anger and affection, always entwined in him.

“That won’t happen under my watch.”

“My clothes disappear under your watch.”

“I get bored in the night,” he replies evenly, setting her down in his lap.

“You get bored,” she repeats, mystified.

“I watch you sleep for a while and then I think how much better you’d look without garments.”

“Can’t you just visualize it in your head and leave my body alone?”

“Not really.”

 _Not really._ Rose heaves a sigh. “You know you’re pretty shallow for a Sith.”

“On the contrary, I’m an aesthete.”

She gags. “Please never say those words to me again.”

Kylo tips her head up, thumb tracing her jaw. “Are you feeling well?”

Rose wrenches her chin away. “I will when I put some clothes on.”

“Mmm.”

“Does the Supreme Leader not agree?”

“No, but I suppose I can’t stop you.”

 _Of course you could_ , she thinks, knowing he can hear. Living with him, being with him is like clutching a grenade between her palms and hoping she still has time before it goes off. There’s something so tenuous, so unachievable, yet so simple about their connection. The issue of autonomy comes up a lot, not because Kylo wants to violate her boundaries, but because he’s stopped seeing them altogether. He doesn’t understand her privacy, doesn’t understand she may harbor a self that is unavailable to him.  

He lets her slip away.

Rose grabs a fresh shirt from the dresser.

His eyes follow her passively.

She pulls up her hair. “Do you have to meet with the council today?”

“Not likely. They know only to report when they have something of substance.”

She can hear some displeasure in his voice.

She glances at him over her shoulder.

“Did you go too far again?”

He knows what she means. Sometimes he gets lost on the plains of dark energy and it’s hard to come back.

He nods, looking at his own hands.  The red in his eyes flickers.

“Good thing I yelled at you, then."

He smiles at her, gauche and predatory. It makes her heart ache a little, how liquid and ungainly he can be, how like a living monument when she blinks.

“What if you don’t come back one day?” She says it all in one breath. The thought nearly chokes her.

The Sith Lord regards her coolly, still smiling, as if he _does_ intend to do just that.

“You’d do it just to aggravate me, wouldn’t you?” she adds, trying to laugh it off, trying find the humor in it.

He cocks his head to the side, hair falling in his eyes.

“I do like you angry.”

She’d like to be in the mood for this game, but the thought of him losing his mind completely to the dark terrifies her, even if he’s tried to make her understand that the dark is the most welcoming place there is.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

“Come here,” he says softly, sensing her distress.

He doesn’t need the Force. He’s never really needed it with her. As much blood as there is on his hands, he’ll always be like the first snow fall to her. 

For a brief moment, she thinks about snow on her tongue, and it tastes like salt, falling uniformly, coating a planet. The moment goes. 

Rose rushes to him. He loves it when she launches herself into his arms, that familiar weight, the warmth of her body giving off more energy than a small planet.  

He grips her to him.

She wants him to say, _I’ll always come back. Every time._

She wants him to make the promise her sister couldn't quite keep. 

But that’s not what he says. That’s not Kylo.

Kylo says, “Whatever happens, I’ll take you with me. I’ll rend the fabric of the Force in half and drag you down with me.”

He kisses the top of her hair.

Rose shivers. It’s a nightmarish vision, almost a death sentence, and yet it comforts her, even ignites something playful in her.

“You think you can pull it off?” she asks, half teasing, half curious.

He scoffs. “You _are_ ridiculously small. I can practically fit you in my pocket.”

Rose knocks him sharply in the ribs.

There’s only dark laughter as he slips his hand under her shirt.

She finds his mouth hungrily, bites his lips without managing to break the skin, without really wanting to, just enjoying the fact that he’s here with her and he is hers.

The question that slips through the haze of lust as he once again gets rid of her clothes and dwarfs her with his hands - as if to prove his point - is _what if he’s already done it? Already rent the Force and dragged you down? What if none of this is real?_  

Perhaps this room, this building, this city, this planet, this galaxy -they are all the home he made for her, a raft on a dark river, floating to nowhere.

Perhaps.

Perhaps out there, in the _real_ world, she’s never even met him, never shared the same breath of air, as they do now, as he sinks inside her, maybe they’re still enemies, maybe she has not even seen his face.

She looks into his red-gold eyes as she feels the pleasure build and build, and she sees the blast of a death ray, coming down on the Rebel station. She’s driving a speeder that’s falling apart, she’s driving it straight into the death ray.

She comes apart around him and chokes on his name, his mouth at her throat, and she’s suddenly flying through the air, speeder careening into nothingness.

She’s going to die.

And she's going to welcome it. 

 

 

 

Rose blinks and stirs awake.

She wakes up to the sound of his meditation. He is loud even when he’s perfectly still.

She stretches lazily, enjoys the feel of the sheets against her naked body. He’s undressed her again.

She raises herself on her elbows.

He’s meditating in his hatch.

Should she go disturb him from his trance? Trouble his dark-suffused peace? 

She smiles a small, impish smile.

After all, that’s the most dangerous thing you can do to a Sith Lord.

She goes to him, naked as the day she was born.

 

 

 


End file.
